Nothing in the World
by Gracielinn
Summary: "Every morning Wyatt woke, fully intent on breaking down the defensive walls Lucy constructed around her vulnerable heart during her time as a Rittenhouse captive-and now they found themselves alone in 1941 Hollywood..." Wyatt POV, AU one-shot for "Hollywoodland."


Nothing in the World

_A/N #1: The inspiration for this AU story came out of a wonderful discussion on Twitter about the glorious (deleted) pool scene from Hollywoodland–thanks bunches, Timeless friends :)_

_Two people in love, alone, isolated from the world... - Milan Kundera_

The late evening breeze shimmered gently across the sparkling water of Hedy Lamarr's pool, teasing a few flyaway strands of Lucy's retro-styled raven curls. Standing side by side at the pool's edge, close enough Wyatt could feel the slight warmth of her thin satin-covered shoulder against his upper arm, he let himself relax in the unexpected peacefulness of the moment. It had been quite the eventful evening for the team so far, but with Rufus inside the glamorous movie star's mansion, happily occupied with touring her "invention" room, he and Lucy found themselves alone, a rare occasion lately for the two of them.

After her incredible-and perhaps unintentionally revealing-vocal performance earlier this evening, followed not long after by _another_ attempt from one of Carol Preston's Rittenhouse goons to kidnap Lucy (fortunately thwarted), the cool winter air seemed full to bursting with unspoken emotions–so intense at times, Wyatt swore he could almost _see_ the sparks fly between them. He wondered idly if she sensed it, too.

Whatever this was he and Lucy shared-while perhaps a little too soon to slap a label on it-had only grown in intensity since the team returned from 1918 France. The overwhelming joy of their reunion 100 years ago on a WWI battlefield after six tortuous weeks apart had settled effortlessly into Wyatt's heart and soul, where it smoldered like the carefully banked coals of a well-tended fire.

In the weeks since then, Wyatt kept a tight rein on his growing feelings for Lucy-save for a couple of interrupted kisses–less than confident that she was in the same place emotionally. _Just as well, because their friends, whether intentionally or not, definitely had a knack for spoiling the moment, _he thought ruefully.

Without a doubt, the first few days after the team had reunited were rough. His favorite historian had been so subdued, a quiet shadow of the vibrant, feisty woman he fell in love with, that it took nearly every scrap of Wyatt's usually reliable self control not to follow her around like a needy stray pup. Regrettably, his occasionally reckless impatience got the better of him at last, and he felt driven to ask Lucy point blank about her six weeks as a Rittenhouse captive. _That had been a huge, stupid-ass mistake. _Her already-pale face completely lost all color, and aside from a flash of pain in her eyes, had gone scarily blank seconds before she averted her eyes and claimed rather unconvincingly she was fine...even as she hurriedly put as much distance as possible between the two of them. _And that stung a hell of a lot more than he cared to admit._

And so, privately licking his wounds, a soundly rebuffed Wyatt's days were fueled by the instinctive, almost obsessive need to protect Lucy and keep her safe, his solitary nights spent lying on an uncomfortably narrow cot pretending to sleep while Rufus snored like a rusty chainsaw across the small room they shared. By the third near-sleepless night after Lucy's return, in an effort to soothe himself long enough to drift off for a couple fitful hours, he'd pathetically resorted to reliving some of the meaningful, oftentimes intimate, past moments between the two of them since meeting a couple years ago–_like some kind of "Lucy and Wyatt's greatest hits" or something_, he reflected grumpily the next night.

_Her huffy–and quite amusing-response when he'd apparently called her "Ma'am" one time too many in the Mason Industries waiting room the night they met, and the sharp flare of desire Wyatt unexpectedly experienced during the first mission at seeing all that creamy, delicate skin when she stripped off her bra..._

_His unanticipated (and certainly unwelcome) jealousy over now ex-favorite author Ian Fleming's bold as brass interest in Lucy and the quiet intimacy of their "figure out what you're fighting for" talk..._

_Her fierce determination to reach him at the Alamo once she figured out Wyatt had begun to succumb to the treacherous darkness threatening to consume him, and then on top of that, after arriving back at MI, actually saving his spot on the team (helped by Rufus) when the Homeland Security dick tried to kick his ass to the curb..._

_Exasperated and yet reluctantly just a little charmed in spite of himself when Lucy fell through the hotel window in 1972 D.C. and saved him yet again, braving Wyatt's obvious anger over his perceived betrayal of the trust he had in her..._

_The impulsive kiss in front of Bonnie and Clyde–so hot it practically made him forget his own name, followed by some hastily-improvised cuddling on the outlaw couple's worn sofa before ending up the evening sharing a bed with a sexy, half-dressed Lucy..._

_His gut-wrenching fear the night in 1780 Lucy had been taken by Flynn and their sweet reunion after she once again saved him when Harry Houdini (of all people) unlocked the door to the murder room where he and Rufus were slowly dying..._

The average person would've been astonished to learn memories like these were just the tip of the iceberg, considering the surreal lives the team had led since discovering time travel was real and the three of them embarked on the most insane, dangerous mission of Wyatt's Delta Force career. Every morning he woke, fully intent on breaking down the defensive walls Lucy constructed around her vulnerable heart, but it was a daunting task for a man highly trained and experienced in setting goals and getting results.

After arriving in 1955 South Carolina, it seemed like she was finally starting to relax around him, but even when he'd been wrapped tightly around Lucy's slender body in the trunk of Wendell Scott's jalopy and they were _this close_ to repeating their first kiss, to his frustration, Wyatt could sense she was still holding back a part of herself. _Until tonight_.

And now they found themselves in 1941 Hollywood, alone at last in this magical place...a place famous for making fantasy come true. Wyatt was desperately unsure if they were finally on the same page or not, but he yearned to take this momentous next step with Lucy. He's never wanted a woman as much as his smart, brave, beautiful teammate, not even his wife. _Maybe neither one was ready to say the actual words out loud_, his cautious heart was quick to point out, but that was alright. For now, Wyatt was more than content for a chance to show this woman with his lips and hands and body how much he loved and desired her...and possibly, just how important she was to his future happiness.

Willing himself to be patient, he sighed inwardly and broke the not unpleasant silence by wondering aloud how long Hedy and George had been together. To his surprise, according to Lucy, the actress and her married co-inventor were merely good friends, although Wyatt thought anyone with two good eyes could see that George was head over heels in love with his beautiful "friend."

He involuntarily flinched in brotherly solidarity when Lucy dryly noted Hedy's apparently well-known preference for taller men, commenting, "Ouch...poor guy never had a shot." After a moment's pause, Wyatt took another fortifying sip of his very fine, well-aged whiskey and decided to take the bull by the horns (_as his Grandpa Sherwin was fond of saying_), observing, "Some men find a beautiful woman with brains intimidating." He held his breath waiting for Lucy to respond, unconsciously tightening his grip on the expensive cut glass tumbler in his hand.

Knowing (and loving) her as well as he did, it came as no surprise to Wyatt when Lucy being Lucy, immediately assumed he was referring to their hostess and began to defend the actress' mental prowess. Heart pounding, Wyatt resolutely kept his eyes on the other side of the pool and not the beautiful woman beside him, and as casually as he could manage when she paused to take a breath, clarified, "I wasn't talking about Hedy," before turning to gaze intently at the bewildered expression blooming on her face. _C'mon, Professor, work with me here_, he urged wordlessly_._

It was almost funny the way Lucy's elegant brows drew together when she asked in an incredulous tone, "You find _me_ intimidating?" She looked so adorably confused, Wyatt gave in to the temptation to push her buttons.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean you," he teased with a mischievous grin, losing his confidence for only a fleeting second before sealing the deal by informing her she was 'not hideous.' Lucy stared at him, warm brown eyes widening in shock before abruptly laughing merrily and offering a half-hearted protest. Shaking his head in amusement, Wyatt cut her off with, "You know you're beautiful, alright?"

But Lucy didn't react the way he expected her to. The smile fell from her face and she looked down at the pool for a moment before replying solemnly, "I don't really think of myself that way...I guess I've always seen myself as more of a nerd."

_What? She couldn't be serious. _Frowning slightly, he shook his head, countering skeptically, "I doubt that."

But it seemed Lucy _was_ serious, acknowledging with a faintly defensive shrug she'd actually skipped her senior prom to attend a speech and debate tournament-and regretted nothing. _Yep, that sure sounded like something a young Lucy would do. _Without missing a beat, Wyatt smiled fondly and agreed, "That's pretty nerdy," and they grinned companionably at each other before Lucy leaned up and affectionately bumped his shoulder with hers.

Probably eager to redirect the conversation, her grin widened as she quipped with a knowing glance, "I bet you were popular in school–had all the girls lined up around the block...just all 'hey, ladies'..."

Wyatt stared at her for a few seconds, dismayed by the faint tinge of disappointment he felt. _Was that the impression he gave her? That he was some kind of 'player' during his teen years? Damn. _For all Lucy Preston was the most intelligent woman he knew, she really missed the mark with that one. The amusement instantly fell from her face, however, replaced by a quiet understanding when he shared that he'd been barred from his senior prom after getting caught drinking on campus, quietly admitting, "I was kinda lost back then."

Caught up in his thoughts, Wyatt barely noticed her sympathetic nod. Not only had he _never_ been that kind of guy, one of those assholes who used his looks to hit on susceptible females, but meeting Lucy–gradually getting to know and love her-had changed him in the past two years, gave his life new meaning and a defined purpose, made him want to be a better man, and Wyatt decided right then and there it was past time she knew that. "You saved my life, you know," he confided gravely, fervently hoping her usually brilliant mind would figure out what Wyatt was trying to say in his own clumsy way.

_I love you not only for what you are–but for what I am when I am with you. - Roy Croft_

Unfortunately, his heartfelt declaration appeared to have made her slightly uncomfortable because Lucy's puzzling response was to shrug it off and reply a touch defensively, "Which time? The Alamo? Watergate? I'm losing count," she joked. If not for the vulnerable, faintly hopeful expression on her face, Wyatt might have jumped to the wrong conclusion and been supremely discouraged

After the hellish experience with Carol Preston during her six-week captivity, he should've expected Lucy to be a little more insecure than usual–honestly, anyone would, under the circumstances. _God only knew what kind of mind games the woman used on her own child in the name of Rittenhouse. _That was okay, though, because whatever it took, whatever Lucy needed, he was in it forever with her. Smiling inwardly, he soberly considered her lithe body angled appealingly towards Wyatt, dark amber eyes regarding him hesitantly._ Time to cowboy up, Logan._

Turning to focus his attention on her, he scolded mildly, "Oh my God, that is not what I meant," and when Lucy only continued to stare at him mutely, Wyatt asked rhetorically, "You know why I took this assignment? 'Cause it was dangerous...after Jessica died, I just sort of...just stopped caring. But not any more." Fully facing her now, he never took his eyes off her face as he waited patiently for her response. _Help me here, Lucy, please..._

If he squinted just a little, he could almost see her incredible brain feverishly processing his words. _You're almost there, Professor...you got this... _Inhaling deeply, Lucy shivered visibly before telling Wyatt in a strained voice, "When I was with my mother, I thought you were dead–and I felt the same way."

Pressing his hard-won advantage, Wyatt watched her intently, scarcely daring to breathe, murmuring, "And now?" They stared at each other for a tense few seconds.

But even as he bent closer to kiss her, Lucy stopped him with a small hand on his chest, stammering earnestly, "Wait...I mean, we're co-workers–isn't this against the rules or something?"

_Good Lord, but this woman was gonna be the death of him_. Holding himself perfectly still with great effort, Wyatt frowned and pretended to seriously consider her question–for all of about two seconds–before answering, "Yeah." Then all bets were off when he grinned crookedly and assured her, "I think we're gonna break a few rules," gratified when she blushed and enthusiastically threw her slim arms around his neck.

Caressing Lucy's cheek gently, he hesitated only a heartbeat before leaning in to press a tender kiss on her inviting mouth. To his delight, her soft lips parted instinctively under his, long eyelashes fluttering shut. _Finally–thank you, God. _Desire surged through Wyatt as his mouth moved possessively over hers time and again until the need for oxygen made him draw back reluctantly to pant lightly against her sweet mouth for a few seconds before swooping in again for another taste.

When he chose to remember the moment later, Wyatt was at a loss to logically explain what happened next, except a wild guess that maybe his overjoyed heart was so full of love for Lucy, he might have gone a little bit crazy. His lips unerringly seeking hers, without a second thought, Wyatt impulsively (_possibly recklessly_) swept Lucy's slender body into his arms, very much enjoying her shocked gasp as she clung tightly to him.

"Oh, you," Lucy sputtered, easily reading the devilish gleam in his eyes he didn't even bother to hide, "Don't you dare!"

Summoning a charmingly insincere smile, Wyatt asked innocently, "What? Dare what? I wouldn't do that..." Holding her securely against his chest, he could feel her slight frame trembling in anticipation.

Lucy watched his face warily, and to his amusement, warned breathlessly, "You're gonna get it...you're gonna get it..."

And then with an impressively straight face, Wyatt Logan told the woman he loved a big, fat lie. "I wouldn't do that," he promised exactly one second before suddenly leaping into the pool, his excited shout and her panicked shriek filling the air as they both went under while still holding on to each other. Luckily, the water was only waist deep, and they quickly bobbed to the surface, Wyatt hastily pushing wet hair out of his eyes in time to see Lucy rapidly blinking water out of her glowing dark eyes and laughing so hard she could barely speak. _God, how he loved this woman. _

Tugging her flush against his chest, Wyatt wrapped his hand around Lucy's delicate neck and proceeded to leisurely claim her soft, siren-red lips. Soaked bodies plastered together in the swirling water, endless glorious seconds passed as they feverishly caressed each other. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Lucy's fancy gold sandals fly over her right shoulder and plop into the water, and smirked against her mouth before getting back to the business at hand.

At last, his need for air reluctantly took precedence over Lucy's tempting kisses, and pressing his forehead against hers, Wyatt inhaled deeply, willing his racing heart to slow the hell down. Under the pervasive scent of chlorine, he could smell the delicate fragrance of her skin, and his body tightened in pleasure when her slim fingers combed through the saturated hair at the back of his neck as she eagerly returned his kisses.

Without warning, Lucy quivered in his arms, and Wyatt knew it was time to move this little party inside. Dropping a hasty kiss on the top of her drenched black curls, he drew back, grinning proudly when she immediately opened her eyes and swaying in his arms, protested dreamily, "Hey, why'd you stop?"

Shaking his head, Wyatt answered in a husky voice, "Because, sweetheart, California or not, it's still January, and all that soft, pretty skin of yours is starting to turn blue." He bit back a chuckle when her lower lip stuck out mutinously for a moment before she started to shiver again. "No arguments, now," he advised firmly, taking Lucy's arm and tugging her towards the steps at the shallow end of the pool, thoughtfully snagging her sandals before they could float away.

Letting go long enough to grab the metal railing, Wyatt hauled himself halfway up the steps, grimacing as the water poured off his body. _What the hell had he been thinking?_ If his sodden shirt and pants were this uncomfortable, that heavy satin dress Lucy was wearing must feel like it was made of concrete or something. Turning to help her up the steps, he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Standing in the water, trying to keep her balance, she looked like a half-drowned kitten, all big dark eyes and trembling lips, and Wyatt wanted nothing more than to jump back in the pool and take possession of her sweet mouth again. Then she frowned and letting loose a rather robust sneeze, scowled up at him and demanded, "Are you laughing at me, Master Sergeant?" _Oops, busted._

"No, Ma'am. That would be ungentlemanly of me, and my Grandma Sherwin raised me to treat a lady right," he declared politely, ignoring the way Lucy's eyes narrowed dangerously. "C'mon, Professor, give me your hand." It actually took both of them to get her out of the water. As Wyatt feared, while he doubted Lucy herself barely topped 120 pounds (if that), the completely saturated evening gown, on the other hand, weighed a _ton_. Finally, she was standing beside him, teeth chattering as she pushed the heavy mop of hair off her forehead and began to gather up the dripping skirt of her over-long dress, revealing willowy, very attractive bare legs. Guilt and desire warred with one another in his chest at her bedraggled appearance._ Jesus, Logan, quit checking out her legs-what if she catches a cold or something? _he fretted silently.

"I need to get you out of those wet clothes," Wyatt muttered without thinking, his face warming when Lucy stared at him in shock. "You know what I mean," he scolded when she raised a dark brow accusingly before sneezing once more. Glancing over her shoulder, he spied a cozy little bungalow a few yards away. That must be the guest house Hedy mentioned with a speculative glance at Lucy and Wyatt during the car ride. Deciding they'd sort out the sleeping arrangements later, after both of them were dry and warm, Wyatt bent over, put his shoulder against Lucy's flat stomach and swiftly lifted her in a fireman's carry hold. He winced when she shrieked in surprise, ignoring the small hands smacking him on the back. _Yep, it was like trying to wrestle a wet, very pissed-off kitten..._

"Wyatt Logan, put me down this instant-I can walk," she hissed, struggling valiantly against his strong arms. A brisk, impulsive tap on her nicely rounded bottom silenced her quickly enough, although Wyatt was sure he was gonna catch _serious_ hell for that little move once they were inside. Striding toward the guest house with Lucy's pliant-for-the-moment body draped over his broad shoulder, he looked hurriedly left and right, sighing in relief that their crazy stunt seemed to have gone unnoticed.

Tightening his hold around the back of Lucy's slender thighs, Wyatt deftly finessed them through the door, kicking it shut. A quick scan of their surroundings revealed a massive, luxuriously made up bed against one wall and an even more promising sight, a cheerfully burning fireplace that cast warm, flickering shadows around the spacious room. Grateful for small mercies, he paused long enough to catch his breath, chuckling when she snarled against the middle of his back, "Hello? What are you waiting for? Wyatt Logan, if you don't let go of me right now..."

Her indignant voice cut off abruptly when without warning, he loosened his arms and she slid awkwardly down the front of his body. When Lucy's bare feet touched the thickly-carpeted floor, she looked up at him without speaking, her wide eyes searching his face. Calmly returning her gaze, Wyatt felt like he was balanced on the edge of a steep cliff, one misstep away from either disaster...or salvation.

Evidently Lucy was satisfied with what she saw. Throwing her arms around Wyatt's neck, she whispered against his lips, "I think I'm going to need some help getting out of this dress, soldier," and that was all it took to send desire coursing anew through his body.

_Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies... - Artistotle_

"Yes, Ma'am," he responded agreeably, kissing her lightly, "Wait right here and I'll get us some towels." Surprisingly, instead of arguing with him, she nodded obediently, yawning daintily and wrapping slim arms around herself with a shiver. Wyatt felt the weight of Lucy's sleepy gaze as she watched him rid himself of his soaked shoes and socks before heading barefoot toward an open doorway across the room. _Sorry, sweetheart, you're probably tired, but I'm afraid sleep is gonna have to wait for a little while longer, _he thought confidently. There was no doubt in his mind whatsoever how this evening was gonna end_._

In one corner of the fairly modern–for 1941–bathroom sat a large wicker armoire. Opening the doors, he was pleased to discover a tall pile of plush towels and snagged a couple. Hurriedly peeling off his unpleasantly damp shirt, pants, suspenders, and boxers and draping them over the side of the gleaming white claw foot tub, Wyatt wrapped one of the generously-sized towels around his trim waist. Mindful of an exhausted Lucy waiting patiently in the other room, he stole a quick glance in the mirror above the sink and smiled pensively at his reflection. _Don't screw this up, man_.

Although her elegant brows rose inquisitively at the sight of a bare-chested Wyatt wearing nothing but a towel, Lucy made no comment when he handed over a towel and quietly asked her to turn around. Her eyes darted to his face for a second before she squared her narrow shoulders and with a faint shudder, acquiesced, standing perfectly still, even when Wyatt's large hands fumbled a little with the long zipper. Inch by inch, more of Lucy's creamy damp skin was revealed until finally, he gently pulled the ruined garment from her shoulders and let it drop in a sodden heap around her ankles, leaving her clad in a thin, silky chemise that clung lovingly to her slight frame.

Drawing her away from the puddle of wet gown and closer to the enticing warmth of the fireplace, he took the dry towel from Lucy and begun to gently rub her hair as if she were a child. Her blissful sigh at his tender ministrations, though, was that of a grown woman, and Wyatt felt his usual self control starting to fade. Abruptly, Lucy stepped away from him and turning around, stared into his eyes. At his openly hungry gaze, she blushed prettily. "Are we really going to do this?" she asked somewhat nervously, interrupting his increasingly aroused thoughts_. Oh, hell, yes, Ma'am, if you're asking for my opinion. _

Her vulnerable expression touched Wyatt's heart, and taking a deep breath, he stood motionless for a moment before tenderly cupping her flushed cheek. Glancing down at himself, he shot her a dimpled grin and replied, "Well, Professor, I think it's more than obvious right now how much I want you-and to be honest, I want you more than I've ever wanted a woman, and for a lot longer than you might have guessed. But this will only happen if you want it to...your decision, Lucy." There–he'd put all his cards on the table, and prayed fervently she felt the same.

Her anxious brown eyes watched him for what felt like an excruciatingly long time before Lucy smiled tremulously and whispered, "Yes, I want to be with you, too, Wyatt, and have for quite a while...during those weeks with my mother, I missed you so badly. I know I've been distant since you and Rufus brought me home, keeping you at arm's length, and I'm truly sorry–I never meant to hurt you. Can you forgive me?" she pleaded.

Instead of answering, Wyatt immediately tossed aside her damp towel and reaching for a delicate wrist, tugged Lucy to him, capturing her lips in a lingering kiss. He could feel her heart pounding against his chest, the soft whimpers escaping her lips making Wyatt's whole body ache with desire. He frowned slightly when she drew back, and accurately reading his expression, put her fingers on his mouth and shaking her head, with a shy smile, slipped the skinny straps of the chemise from her shoulders, letting it glide down her lissome body. He sucked in a harsh breath. Just as he guessed while sharing a bed during their evening with Bonnie and Clyde, Lucy Preston was perfection–_and_ _Wyatt couldn't wait to put his hands all over her..._

Without taking his warm mouth from hers, Wyatt held Lucy firmly against his chest and carefully guided her toward the inviting bed. "Reckless hothead," she moaned when he moved demanding lips to her delicate neck and nipped at a sensitive spot just behind her ear. He bit back a smug grin at her startled squeak when the edge of the bed hit the back of her legs just then and she tumbled backwards in a tangle of bare limbs.

Lowering his body possessively over hers, he settled easily between her slender legs. Lucy gazed up at him with glowing eyes, and she was just so impossibly beautiful–all rosy cheeks and kiss-swollen lips and pale, soft skin–Wyatt swore his heart skipped a beat. Wrapping a small hand around the back of his neck, she pulled his lips to hers and breathlessly requested, "Lose the towel, Master Sergeant," and he'd never been so happy to obey a direct order in his life.

"Bossy know-it-all," Wyatt grumbled half-heartedly, pulling away from her delectable body long enough to rip it off and drop it on the floor. And then the time for words was over. Before he surrendered to her completely, it briefly crossed his mind their first time together might be over embarrassingly fast. _No matter_. It sure as hell wouldn't be the only time they made love tonight. He was determined to make the most of their few precious hours alone here because who knew what kind of time line they'd return to? After everything they'd endured to this point, all Wyatt cared about was that he and Lucy were finally together, and to hell with anyone who tried to come between them...

_I do love nothing in the world as much as you. - William Shakespeare_

_A/N #2: Poor Wyatt...he and Lucy are in for a horrible surprise, aren't they (one that broke my heart during season two, to be honest). So there you have my take on what their first sexy times might have been like in Hollywoodland if the show had gone with the deleted pool scene. Sorry for the delay writing the next chapter of GMH, but once I got the idea for this new fic in my head, it wouldn't let me be–and this is the result. My sincere appreciation as always to everyone who reads, follows, and favorites my stories, especially those of you kind enough to leave a review...thanks so much! :))_


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